How this woman stood by Barry George and helped him survive

The man acquitted on Friday of killing Jill Dando has complex mental health difficulties which would have made a fair trial almost impossible. Jamie Doward speaks to pioneering psychologist Susan Young about her role throughout his eight-year legal battle

Dr Susan Young is a clinical and forensic psychologist entering the High Court on the second day of Barry George's appeal against his conviction. Photograph: Cate Gillon/Getty Images

In his first precious moments of freedom, on a day he believed would never come, Barry George was terrified. Bundled into a taxi outside the Old Bailey within minutes of Friday's unanimous acquittal verdict, George was incapable of speech.

Wide-eyed and sallow-faced, he struggled to take in the fact that after eight years he was a free man. And not just free, but cleared of one of the most notorious murders in recent history.

But even in the euphoria of his release, George's supporters were aware that for the gun-obsessed loner, a man known in his part of west London as the 'local nutter', freedom will prove no easy ride.

Next to George in the taxi was the woman who has come to know him better than anyone since he was found guilty of killing the BBC presenter Jill Dando, at his first trial in 2001. Dr Susan Young, a clinical forensic psychologist, who specialises in working with murderers, has remained at George's side throughout his two trials and two appeals.

Calm throughout the case, Young, 48, has acted as George's interface with the real world. And yet even she struggled to help her patient following the verdict.

'He was terrified in the taxi,' Young said. 'When the reporters started running and the bulbs started flashing, he was frightened.' Indeed, despite heavy medication and Young's reassuring presence, George was frightened for much of the trial. 'He would tell me several times a day, "I'm going to be convicted,"' Young said. 'He was absolutely convinced.'

Part of Young's job was to manage George's fear. The process started during the original trial when it became clear George's profound problems made it difficult for him to comprehend the enormity of the accusation he faced.

'He was responding very badly to the media,' Young recalled. 'There were photographs of him on the front pages and he became very distressed about this, quite preoccupied with it. When he becomes preoccupied he can't see the wood for the trees - he couldn't focus on the main issues that were important to discuss because he had his own topics whizzing around his head.'

Many of George's preoccupations appear to stem from his psychological problems. 'He has cognitive impairment and low IQ; if he becomes distressed he can't follow proceedings very well so I would help explain things to him,' Young said. 'I would check he was following proceedings and facilitate communication between him and his legal team.'

Right from the beginning it was clear George needed help and a landmark legal decision was taken to allow Young to sit with him in court, the first example of its kind.

'The first priority for everybody was to establish what was causing these psychological difficulties,' Young said. Astonishingly, it emerged that George suffered from quite severe bouts of epilepsy - and yet until he found himself before an Old Bailey jury, the problem had been untreated.

'Once we'd established a history of epilepsy it was important to get him on the appropriate medication to stop the chance of seizures,' Young said. 'He's very anxious and has panic attacks, so I administered strategies to control his feelings of anxiety. They've been shown to be effective in reducing the likelihood of epileptic seizures.'

The process was exhausting, requiring intensive interaction between psychologist and patient. 'As a psychologist we would usually spend a session or a couple of sessions with our clients, but suddenly I was spending all day with a client: it was very tiring,' Young said.

Some have questioned whether it was necessary for the taxpayer to spend tens of thousands of pounds so that Young could escort George into court. But she insists her presence helped.

'If Mr George had been deaf no one would have raised an eyebrow if there had been a signing person in the dock,' she said. 'This is the first time the courts have given a vulnerable person psychological support - it's very important. The cost of delays to a trial are enormous so anything that can help facilitate a trial process should be done.'

Today, George cuts a different figure from the man who first appeared in the dock eight years ago, according to Young. 'He's matured: in this trial he was better than in the last one and I would attribute that to him being on the appropriate levels of medication. The second time around he was more familiar with the process, what he needed to do.'

There were suggestions George played up his mental and medical problems. During his first trial, George brought up a blue liquid which he claimed was bile. It transpired it was washing-up liquid.

But such behaviour appears to have been a manifestation of George's anxiety problems. 'It has to be seen in context,' Young said. 'He had complex problems. He was clearly an isolated, lonely man who would wander around the streets of Fulham without human contact. His days were spent interacting with clinics, hospitals, housing associations, the council and libraries. By claiming to be ill he would feel cared for and feel someone was giving him attention.'

Any suspicion that George was play-acting to the juries was dispelled by successive psychological reports. 'He underwent comprehensive assessment by both defence and prosecution experts to determine whether he was malingering and whether he was having people on,' Young said. 'Everybody unanimously agreed that he was not.'

The inevitable question now is what does Young, who knows George so well, believe? For much has been made of George's past. His desire to pass himself off as others - including an SAS soldier, a stuntman, various musicians and a karate champion - paint a picture of a lone obsessive, Walter Mitty-type figure. George's fascination with the Queen singer, Freddie Mercury, suggests an obsession with celebrity. His conviction for rape and his arrest in possession of a 12in hunting knife and a 50ft rope in the grounds of Kensington Palace indicate he can be dangerous. And when they raided his home, a few hundred yards from Dando's, police found more than 2,000 pictures of women and lists of guns and military magazines.

But the evidence against George was always scant. A speck of firearm discharge that proved crucial in securing his conviction was ruled inadmissible in the second trial and there were no witnesses to the murder. George might have cut a disturbed and disturbing figure but there was nothing to prove he was a killer.

'I've never heard him say anything that made me think, "That was a bit odd,"' Young said. 'Having observed how he behaves when he becomes very distressed, how that affects his concentration levels, his ability to function, how he's even more slowed up and very confused and doesn't know left from right, I can't see really how he could have committed this crime and faded into the background. It doesn't fit.'

The problem for George, though, is he doesn't fit either. The more we know about Barry George, the more it seems we don't know him. He may be now free physically but not mentally. When asked if she believed her patient could ever lead a normal life, Young said: 'I'm not sure that is achievable. It's going to be very difficult for him.'

Judicial errors

Kenny Ritchie: After 21 years on Death Row in the US protesting his innocence of an arson attack in which a two-year-old girl died, he returned to Edinburgh in January. Says he has considered suicide since then.

Colin Stagg: Charged with the murder of Rachel Nickell, he spent 13 months in custody before the trial judge threw out the prosecution's 'Honey Trap' evidence.

Paddy Hill: One of the alleged Birmingham Six Provisional IRA bombers, spent 16 years in prison. Following his release in 1991, he founded Mojo, the Miscarriage of Justice Organisation.